


if you could know what i was feeling, you'd know that i belong with you (and in this love never defeated)

by orphan_account



Series: we'll be looking for sunlight, or the headlights (till our wide eyes burn blind) [8]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Bondage, Breaking Up & Making Up, Canon Compliant, Coming Untouched, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Sex, Endearments, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminization, Fix-It, Flash Forward, Fluff, Frottage, Gentle Sex, Happy Ending, Happy Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Love Bites, M/M, Making Love, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Protectiveness, Referenced only, Riding, Rimming, Romance, Safe Sane and Consensual, Simultaneous Orgasm, Size Difference, Size Kink, Summer Love, Summer Romance, Time Skips, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Weddings, but it's all consensual, kind of?, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 02:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12807516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Notes flew around the room in the sound of Elio’s whimpers. Heat ignited in their touches, in Elio’s needy hands on his face, trailing down to his shoulders. Looping his arms around Oliver’s neck. Steady. Present. Oliver groaned and rolled his hips against Elio’s. Their naked bodies pressed together, like the sheets around them, messy and hot. Like the sunlight that greeted them in the morning, warm and comforting, like the night that had fallen around him. Real.“I’m here,” Elio whispered, light fingertips tracing Oliver’s eyelids, his cheekbones and lips. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”He said softly, and each time, he stroked his fingers through Oliver’s hair as he spread his legs, letting Oliver rest in between them. Opening up for him like a flower, offering his body up, his heart, his soul, his mind. “I’m yours.”Sequel to:keep me by your side. You don't necessarily need to read the first series but it probably would help!





	if you could know what i was feeling, you'd know that i belong with you (and in this love never defeated)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annaliz1220](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaliz1220/gifts).



> This is the last one, my lovelies! <3 I really hope you enjoyed reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it! A couple of notes: 
> 
> 1\. Inspiration for bondage comes from Armie's interview talking about it :P I'm not imagining that am I? 
> 
> 2\. Sexy scenes are all safe, sane and consensual. 
> 
> 3\. Oliver's worries and (slight) possessive thoughts come down to insecurities; he'd never hurt or do anything against Elio's will and Elio knows this. If Elio wanted to leave, he most definitely could. 
> 
> Any mistakes are my own. I own no one.

* * *

Oliver stroked his hand down Elio’s body.

They were in his bedroom with the door closed and the music from the radio turned up. No one else was home in Elio’s accommodation but they wanted to be careful.

He watched as his skin jumped and he arched his back into his hold. How he moaned and whimpered when Oliver’s mouth trailed along his stomach, so happy to melt, to float, to just be. Oliver had no idea what he had done to have such a sweet, beautiful, wise person in his life, to have Elio like this. To hold him, to keep him, to love him. Oliver mapped Elio’s skin with his mouth, as if he could lay his claim and maybe he could, so that if Elio ever got fed up with him, he’d have the memories of Oliver’s mouth on him, of his skin against his, of the heated nights they spent together.

He almost growled at the thought of someone else touching Elio like this. And maybe he did because then Elio was stroking his cheeks, pulling him up gently to level with him on the bed. Oliver braced his hands either side of his head and smiled, trying to cover up the worry and insecurity in his eyes. What if Elio left him? What if he found someone knew?

“I’m here,” Elio whispered, light fingertips tracing Oliver’s eyelids, his cheekbones and lips. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” He said softly, and each time, he stroked his fingers through Oliver’s hair as he spread his legs, letting Oliver rest in between them. Opening up for him like a flower, offering his body up, his heart, his soul, his mind. “I’m yours.”

And then he leaned up and brought their mouths together. Oliver’s lips were soft and desperate against his. Hunger in his kiss. Elio moaned and parted his lips, licking Oliver’s, sucking on his bottom lip so that the latter would open his mouth. Oliver did and then their tongues were dancing together, like they did under the stars, touching and coaxing. Oliver poured his love into Elio’s mouth, like the words he spoke to him, the songs they sang together and the music Elio wrote.

Notes flew around the room in the sound of Elio’s whimpers. Heat ignited in their touches, in Elio’s needy hands on his face, trailing down to his shoulders. Looping his arms around Oliver’s neck. Steady. Present. Oliver groaned and rolled his hips against Elio’s. Their naked bodies pressed together, like the sheets around them, messy and hot. Like the sunlight that greeted them in the morning, warm and comforting, like the night that had fallen around him. _Real_.

“ _Oliver_ ,” Elio moaned when he pulled back to breathe, head thrown back. Oliver moved his mouth to Elio’s neck, kissing him there, sucking there, marking as his hips thrust against Elio’s. He wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and stroked.

“Good boy,” Oliver murmured into his ear, voice low.

Elio sighed happily, whimpering ,whining noises leaving his lips. “Ah, _ah_ ,” he clutched at Oliver’s back, “oh, _Oliver_.” He spread his legs further. Like he was a gift for Oliver and he was, he was, he was.

Letting Oliver hold him like this, stroking him, he was so small in comparison to Oliver. So lithe and beautiful, so precious and strong and Oliver was falling for him all over again.

Oliver mouthed over his jaw, pressing his tongue there, tasting him. He tasted sweet and Oliver would never get over his taste, never get over the sunlight and love he found in Elio’s body. He was like the stars in the sky, the moon that lit up the land with its ghostly light, trickling down, wrapping its way around the night; Elio was like that, a soft beauty, until it seeped in all at once and took hold of Oliver’s heart. Unsure and unknown, until it was there and all Oliver could do was bask in it.

Elio’s eyes closed when his back arched and the heat built in his belly, in his thighs, in his hands. His body trembled, desperately moving his hips along with Oliver’s until the pleasure licked down his spine, little sparks of heat that lit up his eyes and he came in Oliver’s hold.

When Oliver followed him over, all over Elio’s stomach, he couldn’t help but feel a primal satisfaction that this was his, that Elio was _his_. “ _Mine_ ,” Oliver said, but it sounded desperate, a little broken like he needed to know Elio wanted him as much as he wanted him. That nothing would come between them again, not his parents, not their insecurities. That he wasn’t sick for thinking so.

“I am,” Elio whispered, when he saw Oliver looking at his stomach. Elio’s beautiful skin covered with Oliver’s come and his own. A _claim_. “I’m not leaving. I am yours, just as you are mine.”

He sat up and wrapped his arms around Oliver, holding him close. There in his shoulder, Oliver sniffed, “I’m sick, aren’t I?” Echoing Elio’s old words from Italy.

Elio stroked his back, “no, you’re not sick. I wish everyone were as sick as you. And even if you are, who’s to say there’s something wrong with that?”

He pulled back and Oliver cupped his face, stroking his cheeks. Keeping him. His face, his mouth, his eyes. Oliver licked his eyelids like Elio once had. Elio wiped away his tears.

“We can be sick together.”

Oliver smiled, and right before he brought their mouths together, said, “together.”

*

Oliver came home to find the lights out in his apartment. He heard a noise in the bedroom. Curiously, Oliver turned the light on in the living room and made his way to the bedroom. He thought about grabbing the phone, calling the police. But what if it was nothing?

His heart was beating a little faster, and his palms were sweaty.

Maybe it was just the wind, he’d left a window open? Or what if it was someone breaking into his home –?

His thoughts were cut off when he entered the bedroom. Fear flown out the window. There was Elio, sitting on his chair. He had makeup on, it made his eyes pop, lashes long and thick. Made the hazel in his green eyes stand out. Like the grassy fields of his hometown that were littered with flowers. A perfect imperfection, beautiful.

He had lipstick on and blush on his cheeks. His hair was perfectly curled and his fresh face was open, youthful and so pretty. He always was. He was dressed in one of Oliver’s shirts, not Billowy but another, with nothing else on underneath. Oliver’s heart dropped in his stomach. Lust and heat coiled around it, love in his mouth and hands as he stared. God, he was so in love.

“Hi,” Elio whispered, demurely turning his eyes down.

Oliver nearly broke the door handle. He closed the door behind him and walked into the room, coming to stand in front of Elio. He cupped the younger man’s face and stroked his cheeks, letting his fingertips kiss his skin, feathery light, as his lashes fluttered.

“You look beautiful,” Oliver said. His voice was hushed. He couldn’t form intelligent sentences. Elio had taken his voice, like his heart. “So, so, beautiful.” He leaned down kissed his forehead, his cheeks and jaw and neck.

Elio moaned prettily and parted his legs for Oliver to kneel in between. “I wanted to surprise you,” Elio replied, in that breathless tone. “We talked about it before, when we said what we wanted to try.”

Oliver remembered that conversation clearly. There were a couple of things on both of their lists of things they wanted after delving into bondage.

“I love it,” Oliver nipped at his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth playfully. “I love you,” he said when he pulled back and kissed Elio’s chin.

Elio blushed and ducked his head. Oliver’s restrain flew out the window then. He brought their mouths together. It was all heat and tongue and teeth and Elio’s sighs of pleasure as Oliver picked him up and carried him over to the bed.

On the bedside table, there was a bottle of water, cream and other supplies. Chocolate for after and a takeout menu for dinner. Elio had it all planned. Oliver was a little bit head over heels for him.

The minute Elio’s back hit the bed, Oliver was on top of him, pulling at the shirt, removing it from him. Elio smiled and ran his hands down Oliver’s shoulders, over his jacket, pulling that off and then his tie and shirt. It was going to be an eventful evening.

Once they were both naked, panting into each other’s mouths, Oliver paused his ministrations of leaving feather light kisses on Elio’s neck to ask, “my tie, do you want it?”

Elio moaned and nodded, putting his hands above his head. “ _Yes_.”

It took everything in Oliver’s control not to touch himself at the sight before him. Elio naked, stretched out on the bed with his hands above his head, body pink with kisses and that adorable blush of his. Oliver felt like his heart was pounding so loud that maybe Elio could hear it. Maybe they were beating to the same song, the same symphony in the night.

“Good boy,” Oliver groaned and made quick work of tying Elio’s hands above his head. “Keep your hands up there, for me. What do you say when you want to stop?”

Elio spread his legs further, offering himself up even more so but forced himself to speak, “Rome. Or stop.” They had a colour system in place too, in case.

“Good, baby,” Oliver husked against his ear, dropping a kiss on his temple. His big hands ran down Elio’s quivering body. He bent down to kiss his stomach. God, he loved kissing his belly. Where he was warm and sweet in his hold. _Adorable_. He smelt like soap and shower gel, _Oliver’s_ , he must have used the bathroom before dressing himself up. There was something about the thought of Elio using his soap and shower gel and shampoo that made him hold onto him tighter.

He smelt like him. Oliver loved that.

Elio was sweating already and not even the cool air from the open window could calm him down. He turned his face into his arm when he felt Oliver spread his cheeks. He whined and rocked his hips upwards, desperate for what was coming. His memories of it were never as good, as amazing as the real thing. He let out a shocked cry when Oliver’s mouth was finally at his puckered rim.

“ _Oliver_ ,” Elio moaned, he would, if he had his hands, run them through his hair. But he couldn’t. So he settled happily for throwing his legs over Oliver’s shoulders and rolling his hips down on his lover’s face as the older man’s mouth played him like a harp.

He was hard, pre-come smearing on his stomach as Oliver’s tongue entered him, playing with the muscle there, featherlight kitten licks until he delved in, like he was a feast. Like he was honey and the best thing he’d ever tasted. Oliver growled into his hole and sent vibrations up his body which made Elio squirm happily, rocking his hips.

He wanted friction, something on his cock but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he let out cries of pleasure up at the ceiling as Oliver’s tongue worked inside him, lips on his rim, suckling. The little nips Oliver gave him as he worked him open with his tongue made Elio’s heart pound. There was nothing like the feeling. It was so intimate and special, the fact that Oliver loved to give this to him, to make him see stars and climb higher, no one had ever touched him there, there was something incredibly loving about the way Oliver pleasured him.

“Oh, _God_ , _oh_ ,” Elio whined, eyes glassy. He wanted to hold Oliver’s face there as he thrust his hips, wanted to keep his mouth there, keep that tongue playing him like a musical instrument until he came. “ _Yes_ , yes, yes, _Oliver_.”

Oliver’s hands ran up his stomach, up to his chest, playing with his nipples. He made a low grumbling noise when Elio pressed the heel of his foot into his back. “Good boy,” Oliver said, voice dark and strained when he pulled back only for a moment, before diving back in.

He inhaled the sweet smell of Elio, where his nose was pressed into his sensitive skin and began licking again at the brunette’s hole. His mouth latched onto his rim and laved at the clenching muscle, groaning when Elio squeezed and shook against him.

“ _Oliver_ ,” Elio gasped, still keeping his hands above his head, back arching. Oliver hummed into his hole and continued to play with Elio’s nipples. “Hmm, hmm, feels – ah, _fuck_.”

Elio had no idea how long Oliver ate him out but by the time he drew back, he was on edge, begging to come, tears on his cheeks. He felt so _good_. Having someone, Oliver, kiss and lick him there, like he was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten, always made him blush and want it even more.

To know that someone _wanted_ to touch him there. Heat coiled in his belly. That familiar feeling bubbled there, making him feel like his heart was about to leave his chest through his stomach. It felt like water falling into a bucket, going lower and lower, tap, tap, _tap_ , licking at his spine. Fire wrapping around his lower abdomen.

It made him feel special.

For someone to bury themselves in his most intimate parts.

He gulped in air as Oliver petted his fevered skin. As he sat up against the headboard and brought Elio onto his lap. Oliver looped Elio’s arms around his neck, still tied.

“You’re so beautiful,” Oliver whispered, cupping his face, wiping away the tears there. “Are you okay, baby?”

Elio nodded, hung up too high. He babbled into Oliver’s neck as his hands, though tied, played with the fine hairs on his lover’s neck. “Please, please, please, want – _want_ –

Oliver kissed him then, had to, cupped his face and pressed their mouths together. He nibbled on Elio’s bottom lip when the younger man whimpered and opened up for him like a flower, like a rose blooming in the summer, red, delicate petals twirling into existence.

“You’re going to ride my thigh, sweetheart,” Oliver murmured into his mouth. Nuzzling his nose against Elio’s. “Do you want that, baby?”

Elio mewled against his mouth when he felt Oliver’s thigh in between his legs and clutched at his shoulders when he tasted himself on Oliver’s tongue. Elio started moving hungrily, a little desperately on Oliver’s thigh, rubbing his cock against the older man’s leg.

“Yes, yes, I want,” Elio gasped, rocking his hips faster against Oliver’s thigh. The much needed friction it provided to his cock was delicious. Sparks licked at his spine as he moved. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, panting up at the ceiling.

Oliver kissed his neck, sucking love bites into Elio’s neck. Elio whined and moved his hips faster, sobs leaving his lips like he was actually riding Oliver’s cock. Like it was inside him, brushing against his sweet spot, like he was full of Oliver. Like he had been inside Elio a couple of nights ago, like his heart and moaned and _moaned_.

“Yes, _yess_ ,” he whimpered, hips stuttering as he thrust his hips, pre-come smeared on Oliver’s leg. Oliver placed his hands on Elio’s hips, helping him move.

“Good boy, my good boy,” Oliver groaned. “Come for me, Elio. Please.” And then Elio’s erratic movements paused, he cried out into Oliver’s mouth and came over Oliver’s leg as Oliver growled into their kiss, hips dancing alongside his.

Elio collapsed against Oliver and buried his face in the older man’s neck. They panted into each other’s space and Oliver stroked his back comfortingly.

“You did so well,” Oliver praised him, kissing Elio’s sweaty temple. Elio looked up at him from where his head was on Oliver’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Elio whispered, nuzzling there. Oliver removed Elio’s hands from his neck and untied his wrists. He kissed each of them and massaged them as he held Elio.

“No, Elio. Thank _you_ ,” Oliver smiled. They were silent for a moment. Just basking in each other’s presence. Oliver felt so in love with the man in his arms.

“What about you?” Elio asked, sleepily, reaching for Oliver’s cock. But when he did, he found that he was soft and wet. He’d come against Elio’s leg. “You came?” And then he remembered that night at the Christmas party.

“You get me,” Oliver echoed his old words.

“I get you,” Elio whispered. “I get you.” Oliver pulled the rumpled blanket over Elio’s shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” Oliver asked, rubbing cream into his wrists, “nothing hurts?”

Elio shook his head, smiling sleepily up at him, “everything feels good.” Curled up in Oliver’s arms despite the come. Warm in his blankets.

Oliver smiled back at him and held up a water bottle to Elio’s lips. Elio drank what he wanted and then Oliver took his share. Oliver fed him some chocolate next and took a bite for himself.

“Dinner first or shower?” Oliver asked, kissing Elio’s temple, feeding him some more chocolate and water and then taking some for himself.

“Shower,” Elio replied.

“Shower it is.”

They showered together, Oliver held him in the bath and made sure he was all right. Washed his body, kissed his skin and made sure there were no worrying marks.

“I love you,” Oliver whispered into his skin as he held him.

“I love you too,” Elio smiled up at him.

They basked in the bubbly water and kissed into the night.

Then, they dried and dressed and Oliver cleaned up the bedroom. After they cuddled each other on the sofa and watch a couple of films while they ate takeout food.

*

Their first year anniversary had passed when they were travelling in the summer.

They spent it exploring Delphi and kissing in the mountains while the night dawned around them. Oliver couldn’t believe that they’d been together officially for a year and before that, the pain leading up to them actually starting a relationship, with him leaving back for the States, almost getting married and coming back in the haze of summer, when Elio had been so angry with him.

So much had happened in the space of a year.

They’d celebrated Elio’s birthday in France and the winter holidays together in Italy. They’d spent Oliver’s twenty-sixth birthday, in the Spring watching old films (Elio had bought him a couple) at his apartment, eating pizza and kissing, until they fell into bed together and the months went by and then the summer was upon them; San Francisco and backpacking across countries until they found themselves back in Rome. Now, it was September again.

And it was Elio’s twentieth birthday.

They were on campus, spread out on a blanket on the roof of Elio’s accommodation, They had candles around them. It was a warm night and they were holding hands, looking up at the starry sky.

Oliver had treated him to a day out. They’d spent the day together at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and then, drove back to Yale. They had taken a blanket up to the roof to watch the night sky and eaten on it, in the dying light, surrounded by flickering candles. It was a private, small birthday. But one that Elio loved, much like Oliver’s last that had passed with them wrapped up in each other.

Oliver had bought him a couple of books, art pieces and a notebook for his music. Elio wasn’t a fan of material things but Oliver did buy him some more tapes to listen to for when he wrote music.

“Happy birthday,” Oliver whispered, leaning over and kissed Elio’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Elio replied, turning his face and kissed Oliver on the mouth. They were wrapped up in each other, as the open air kissed their cheeks. The stars seemed to wink down at them. Knowing. Always knowing. And never telling.

“Thank you,” Elio whispered into his mouth. He rested his head on Oliver’s shoulder. “Someone asked me the other day if I wanted to get married.”

Oliver wrapped his arm around Elio’s body. He kissed Elio’s forehead, sad because things were so different for them, compared to straight couples. “One day sweetheart.”

Elio smiled, listening to Oliver’s beating heart. “One day.”

One day, after Elio graduated, they’d take a trip to Denmark where registered partnerships were allowed and the first place to do and cement their love in 1989. After, he’d write his own music and publish his own academic writing. He’d tell the tale, in a fictional piece of prose, of a young man who falls for an older man in the heat of Italy.

Well, maybe not entirely fictional. The names would change of course.

Oliver would continue to work in New York for a time. They’d grow up together, at one point even separating for a time as some couples do (but _never_ to the point of dissolving their partnership that they so wished could be a marriage in the eyes of the law, why couldn’t they have that too?). They’d find each other again, only months later and buy a house in a sleepy part of Connecticut, but have to move after Oliver’s parents stuck their noses in places it didn’t belong. For a time, they would live in San Francisco and write and live and love there.

Oliver would teach and publish as would Elio as the world changed around them. They’d have arguments as all couples do, tears shed and doors slammed, until morning dawned and whatever they had been disagreeing over, melted away.

They would take frequent trips to Italy to visit Elio’s parents and reminisce about a time that had passed, of a young boy who had fallen for the mysterious intellectual.

In the late 90’s, they’d move back to Connecticut when Oliver would start teaching at Yale and his parents were too old to bother them. They would reclaim their old house as it was up for sale and settle into the life that had always been waiting for them.

Long days at work and Elio with his publisher, for them to meet each other in the front garden, for them to kiss in the corridor’s light and cook dinner together.

And one day, in twenty-six years from the night on the roof, they’d stand up in front of a Rabbi in New York, in front of their family, including Elio’s parents, and friends. Thirty-four years after their initial meeting in Italy, a man with dark hair and a blond man, would be at their wedding, _finally_.

And it would be beautiful and teary and perfect, with parts of them wishing that this could have happened sooner.

But for that very moment, they kissed on the blanket, in the moonlight knowing that they’d found the stars in each other. Knowing that _this is given once only._

 

 _FIN_.

**Author's Note:**

> Bits of information that I didn't put in the main story: 
> 
> 1\. I'm going by the film's timeline, meaning that in 1983, Elio is 17 meaning he was born in 1966, whereas the book's timeline is a little later, in 1987, meaning he was born in 1970. Oliver, then was born in 1959 (film) or 1963 (book). 
> 
> 2\. Using this in mind, the flash forward part at the end would mean Elio is 51 and Oliver is 58 by the time they get married. When they go to Denmark in 1989, Elio is 23 and Oliver is 30. 
> 
> 3\. The flash forward takes place 34 years later (after their first meeting), to catch up to 2017 while the book's present is 2007, twenty years after Elio and Oliver meet, so if I were to follow the book's timeline, it would 30 years to catch up to 2017. 
> 
> 4\. In the flash forward, Elio's parents are in their early 80's. 
> 
> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are appreciated!


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